


Warming To You

by roselightsaber



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:19:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9613517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselightsaber/pseuds/roselightsaber
Summary: Chirrut has never imagined himself with anyone. But then again, he's always been completely in love with Baze Malbus. Feelings spill out and the two try to navigate what it all means.





	

“Still out here?”

Baze’s voice sneaks up on Chirrut when little else does. Not that he didn’t expect it, or didn’t hear his footfalls approaching on the paving stones of the enclosed courtyard – Baze never comes close with much subtlety and this part of the temple echoes helpfully. But the warm, rich tone of his words always sends a surprising little spark down the back of his neck anyway.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“The elders often speak of regulating one’s body to withstand the elements.” He purses his lips thoughtfully. “Besides, the walls block the wind, a little.”

“Still cold. And you’re not an elder.” Chirrut can hear him fidget, or feel it. The sensations mingled together, and with Baze his senses are always at their blurriest.

“I will be someday. I’m practicing.”

“You should at least dress warmer.”

“Always mothering me,” He complains through a silly smile, only choosing the term because he knows how it annoys the other.

“Not _mothering_ , just–”

“Fussing?”

Baze groans and manages to surprise Chirrut again, this time by pitching a cloak at him from where he stood a few paces away. “If you get sick out here I’ll get blamed for it.”

Those words were even more startling, though, enough that he finally whirls to face him, his eyes curious despite their cloudy, sightless hue. “Why would you get blamed?”

“Because I’m supposed to take care of you,” He mutters, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the world. It’s an assignment he’s practically based his life on, after all, given to him a decade ago when they were both only children.

“You–” Chirrut just laughs. “Who told you that? Master Dhava?”

“Yeah – Why is that so funny?!”

“He must have told you that so you’d stick by me.” Chirrut is still laughing as he wraps Baze’s cloak around his shoulders. “You were _my_ ward. I was supposed to watch out for you.”

“That was a long time ago. When I first arrived.” His brow furrows deeply. “When you started losing your sight he asked me to help you.”

Chirrut shakes his head and finally stands, still beaming. “Have you been thinking you’re my babysitter all these years, Baze?”

“ _No_ ,” He grunts indignantly, though it doesn’t stop him from taking a step closer and adjusting the cloak around Chirrut’s shoulders. “I’m your _protector_.”

This gives Chirrut pause. He may be blind, but no one at the temple has ever treated him differently for it, besides the occasional practical assistance. “You think I need a protector?”

“Not like–” Baze’s aggravated sigh is almost worth the faint insult Chirrut is feeling. “Not because of your eyes, really. Not any more, at least. It’s because you do crazy, reckless things. You get in fights. You don’t listen to anybody.”

“So? I don’t listen to you, either.”

“Such a pain,” He grumbles, patting Chirrut’s cheek with one hand. “Are you really going to get angry with me for wanting to keep you safe?”

Chirrut isn’t sure if it’s the words or the touch, but he is convinced. “Regardless,” He says, head tilting just slightly into Baze’s hand. “I’m fairly certain we’ve both been excused from our duties to each other some years ago.” Either of them being a ward of the other at eighteen and nineteen seemed a bit absurd, after all, though Chirrut would have considered it as such for many years prior, too.

Baze hesitates a moment, his hand lingering on Chirrut’s face a beat longer than expected. “I suppose so,” He agrees, thumb swiping over Chirrut’s cheekbone before falling away. “But I think I’ll keep an eye on you anyway.”

Chirrut laughs, and he can sense the Force around Baze lighten, feel the smile on his face and the look in his eyes. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it all yet. He’s felt the warmth between them their whole lives, but it’s taken on a different quality. Baze’s eyes linger on him; there’s a dull ache beneath his affectionate smiles, an undercurrent of something like remorse when they enjoy these moments together. It scares Chirrut sometimes, the thought that Baze’s feelings toward him might have changed, that they might slowly push them apart.

“I’ll try not to make too much trouble for you then,” He promises, getting the very distinct feeling that Baze does not believe him.

“Yeah? Come inside then, it’s getting colder.”

Chirrut concedes at last, taking hold of Baze’s arm. He knew the temple halls well enough that he had absolutely no need for a guide, but there was comfort in it for both of them nonetheless. It’s not terribly warm inside the temple either, of course, but the flagstones hold the heat of sunlight well enough into the evening, and Chirrut trails his free hand along the walls as they walk, as if to draw in what he can. He shivers despite all that practice; it’s harder to focus on maintaining his own temperature when Baze’s arm linked in his is so pleasantly warm.

“I’d sleep in your bed on nights like this, when we were kids.” The thought comes to Chirrut suddenly, and he doesn’t bother to think it over before speaking it aloud – he rarely does, with Baze. “Did Master Dhava tell you you had to?”

Baze’s laugh has an edge of awkwardness to it. Perhaps he’d said too much. “No,” He assures. “I never told him. I used to sleep on the street, you know. I was happy to be warm, too.”

“It surprised me, even then.” He gives his arm a gentle tug. “I didn’t think you trusted me very much.”

“I didn’t trust anyone very much, that’s true.” He smiles over at him. “But you were pretty convincing even then.”

There it is again – the sadness beneath that smile, a longing he can’t quite understand. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t give Baze. “I miss it sometimes,” He admits. It’s true, but also a hesitant nod toward his worries that something is pushing them apart. “Sleeping next to you.”

Baze looks over at him and Chirrut can feel his reluctance. “I do too,” He whispers after a beat of careful silence. “I like having you close.”

Chirrut shivers again and presses a little closer. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“You want to?” He pauses warily at his door, dropping his hand to take Chirrut’s. “It’s not – uncomfortable for you?”

“Uncomfortable? Not at all.” He offers a soft smile and he can feel Baze’s pulse quicken where their fingers are twined together. “I don’t want to grow apart from you.” Another of those too-quick thoughts, spilled out before he can stop it, and he couldn’t be more relieved to feel Baze pull him closer in response.

“Why would we grow apart, you old fool?” There’s no heat in the words, and Baze’s arms around him feel warm and secure.

“I can sense it in you,” He murmurs, nudging Baze into his quarters. He has no desire to admit to reading his emotions out where someone else might overhear, for the sake of either of them.

His tone grows more cautious still even as they retreat to the relative privacy of Baze’s room. “You can – sense _what_ , exactly?”

“There’s something,” He begins, searching desperately for words. “When we’re together. When you look at me, lately. Even when you smile at me there’s sadness.”

“Chirrut…” He sighs heavily, bundling him into a tight embrace. Chirrut’s cheek presses against Baze’s chest, and he can hear his heartbeat hammering. The close contact sends a flush of heat through him, and with it comes realization, all at once, the sort of lightning-strike revelation he thought reserved for less corporeal feelings. He’s never felt this before, never grown up with _love_ around him, least of all romantic love; he never thought it something he might experience. But he feels it as if Baze is desperately trying to tell him as much as he can without words. Chirrut has never really put a label to what he feels for Baze. Their lives have little frivolity, and any self-reflection is geared toward getting stronger, connecting with the Force, not with others. Though, in the warmth radiating from Baze, he can see that his faith in the Force could hardly be untangled from his bond with Baze, and that there is not really any word for it strong enough. But love comes close. 

“I didn’t want to burden you.” Baze’s voice is quiet, pressed to the crown of his head, but it still cuts sharply into Chirrut’s thoughts.

“I didn’t know,” He stammers, for once near speechless, hands grasping at Baze’s robes.

“I didn’t think I was very subtle…”

“No, I didn’t know I even–” He closes his eyes and listens for that heartbeat again. “I didn’t realize what I was feeling. Or what you were feeling. Because we’ve always been like this, haven’t we?”

Baze stiffens a little, clearly unsure what to make of such a statement, which is just as well since Chirrut is unsure of what he means, too. But he draws a long breath and Chirrut can sense him resolving to _sound_  confident, at least, and the affectionate brush of his hand over Chirrut’s head isn’t a bad addition to the illusion. “Yeah. We have.”

“I didn’t know what to call it.” He tips his chin up to face him. Baze always seems more comfortable when Chirrut goes through the motions of the eye contact he can no longer actually make.

“What to call us?” His mood noticeably lifts, amusement seeping into his voice. “What do you think we are then?”

Chirrut laughs softly. If he’s realized he’s still clinging close, listening to Baze’s heart, he isn’t interested in stopping. “All tangled up together.”

“That’s a good answer,” Baze says with a nod, leaning back against the wall and keeping Chirrut close. “How about ‘in love’? Is that too sweet?”

“A little.” He tilts his face up toward him again and for a moment he’d swear he can see Baze’s soft, dark eyes looking back at him in that adoring way. “If we’ve always been like this, what have I been sensing?” He reaches up to touch his face, to map his features. “You thought I wouldn’t love you?”

“I know you love me.” He tilts his head into Chirrut’s hand. “I wasn’t sure if you’d love me the same way. And I didn’t want to lose what we already have by looking for something more. I was uncertain if you had the same…” Chirrut feels Baze’s cheeks grow suddenly very hot beneath his touch. “…desires that I do.”

 _Desires_. He rolls the word around in his mind. “I guess I never thought about that, either.”

“I know,” He laughs softly. “That’s why I wasn’t sure.” A heavy pause. “I’m still not sure.”

“I never imagined myself with anyone,” He admits, fingers trailing down from Baze’s face to his neck and across one shoulder. “In any sense.”

“So you don’t know either?” He smiles a little, not dissatisfied with this answer no matter how vague. They’ve led strange lives – sheltered and isolated at times, forced to grow up too fast at others. Chirrut’s uncertainty, he figures, is as natural as his own sureness. It’s not naivete, or any sort of _innocence_  – that all feels like it carries moral baggage that simply does not apply to them. Chirrut knows himself well, and Baze perhaps even better – this uncertainty isn’t about closeness, or understanding, merely perspective, priorities forced elswhere. “At least we’re on the same page.”

“But I know I love you,” He adds, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “And I know I still want to stay with you tonight.”

“Are you still cold?” Baze rubs his arms a little.

“A little.” His smirk seems a shade less uncertain than a moment ago. “It would be nice to curl up next to you. You’re warm.”

“All right, let’s get warm then.” He moves toward the bed then stops short, causing Chirrut to bump against his hip a little. “Ah, sorry–” He laughs and turns to face him. “I thought I should ask before…” Wherever he meant to go with that thought, he thinks better of it, and just shakes his head. “Can I kiss you?”

So direct, Chirrut thinks with a smile. So like his Baze. “Kiss me,” He replies, just as directly, and Baze’s lips are on his in an instant, years of waiting palpable in the desperate touch of his lips, the hand at his cheek. Chirrut feels that heat flood his senses again, enough to pull a faint gasp from him when they part again. Attraction, he realizes, might not be an entirely foreign concept to him, albeit one that’s been long pushed aside. And Baze just pats his shoulder, that simply, and moves to grab pajamas to change into, leaving Chirrut in the unfamiliar fog of his own emotions and senses gone haywire. It’s not, he thinks with a smile, unpleasant. It all comes naturally to Baze, and Chirrut is grateful for it rather than anxious over the difference. Common ground will certainly be easier to find this way – Baze seems to have a way of flipping switches in his mind for him when he hasn’t yet even figured out what they’re wired to.

Baze flops into bed first, heavily, sheets and clothes rustling noisily. No different than when they were kids. Chirrut joins him, marveling in the strange newness mingling with deep familiarity. Baze’s arm extends to him as naturally as any force in the universe, slipping around his shoulders and drawing him in close.  “Comfortable?”

Chirrut nods, settling against his chest. “A little chilly.”

“Then I’ll keep you warm.” His confident tone doesn’t seem forced now, as if simply having the other in his bed is all he could ever ask for. He kisses his forehead, and Chirrut feels the Force move around them, not in so new a way, but in one he can now see more clearly. “Are you alright? You look like you’re drifting away somewhere.”

“The Force binds us,” He murmurs, tracing curious fingers across Baze’s collar bone. “It always has, but – I can sense it differently now.”

“Feeling more open to it?” Baze guesses. His senses aren’t like Chirrut’s, but the sensation that ignites between them is impossible not to feel. And for all his studiousness, all he reads and trains, he never feels closer to the Force than when Chirrut explains his senses to him; his words are beautifully poetic, often totally mystifying, but always rich with meaning.

“Something like that, yes.” Chirrut presses a palm flat against Baze’s chest, measuring, memorizing. Exploring new territory he finds remarkably natural to claim as his own, even if he wouldn’t have thought to do so on his own. “We’ve always been drawn together. I feel a little foolish for not seeing it more clearly.”

Baze shrugs, fingers pulling through Chirrut’s hair. “It’s a blurry distinction, I suppose.” Baze wonders faintly if he should have studied some aspect of philosophy, perhaps, more fully. Finding words for this is immensely difficult, all the more so with Chirrut’s sharp mind on the receiving end. “What was it today? Did I say something different?”

“No,” Chirrut answers, brow furrowing. “It’s – it’s confusing, honestly. But all is as the Force wills. The bond we share doesn’t feel any different, still. Maybe I just need you this way now.”

Baze raises an eyebrow. “It seems a little unfair for the Force to give me such a need for you so far in advance of your own.”

“Some combination of the Force and the predispositions of your mind, then,” Chirrut laughs softly. “Besides, you waited for me, didn’t you?”

“It’s not as noble when I didn’t _know_  I was waiting for you. I thought it hopeless.”

“I think it’s still noble.” He shifts, straddling Baze’s hips, propped on his elbows over him. “You feel different like this.” Chirrut can feel Baze grinning up at him, flushed warm, the Force moving between them in that comforting, binding way he’s learning to feel more fully. It makes his heart flutter.

“Different how?” Strong hands grasp at Chirrut’s waist and _there_  is another entirely new sense, at once tactile and ethereal, felt simultaneously in the Force and in his skin, molten hot in both cases.

“Softer,” He answers, sitting back on his knees to smooth his palms over Baze’s chest and down his abdomen. Baze is as strong as he but built very differently, thicker and softer where Chirrut is all sinewy and sculpted. The thought sends that feeling of liquid heat over him again. “We mainly touch when sparring, training, things like that. Feeling you relax is…very comforting.”

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing me or not,” Baze chuckles, but is unbothered either way. Chirrut’s hands trailing all over him are more than enough to make up for a little gentle ribbing. “Are you feeling warmer?”

“Much warmer,” He agrees, a flush rising in his cheeks, feeling as if he’s been caught fantasizing – and perhaps he has.

“Let me ask you something.” Baze’s voice is softer now, and he pulls Chirrut back down against his chest. Chirrut nuzzles into his neck, feeling Baze shiver before continuing on. “If our bond hasn’t changed, what is it you feel that’s _love_?”

It’s always been love, but Chirrut catches his meaning. “I feel…a sense of destiny, with you. We are not only bound together now, but our futures are one.” His eyes are closed and he’s breathing deeply, trying to achieve something like a meditative state as Baze’s hands caress his back. “We are one in the Force, and the Force is with us.”

“Tell me,” Baze whispers, head tilting to catch his lips in a long, lazy kiss. “Tell me everything you feel.”

“I feel I am meant to be yours.” Baze’s hold around him tightens, his breath hitches, and for a moment Chirrut is worried he’s said the wrong thing, but he pushes on nonetheless. “I feel…I’ve been yours before. Or – always. You always find me.”

“So I found you today?”

“Something – something like that.” His laugh is breathless as Baze slides warm hands up and down his sides. “Everything lined up just right. That’s as close as I can come to _why_.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Baze murmurs between kisses to his temple. “I could listen to you like this forever.”

“I talk to you about the Force often, don’t I?” He puts a hand to Baze’s cheek, his tone playful. “What’s different?”

“I guess it’s only fair to ask me that, too.” Baze kisses his palm, smiling. “Closeness,” He finally answers after a while. “Physical and otherwise.”

Chirrut’s smile goes sly. “Is it possible that your focus on the former is distracting your sense of the latter?”

“I think we’re striking the balance pretty well.” As if to prove it, he kisses Chirrut again and draws him as close as he can. “Are you comfortable?”

“Very comfortable.”

“You say I’m not your guardian any more, but I’m going to take care of you. Always.”

“You would have done so anyway,” Chirrut sighs dramatically, as if this sweet declaration is an absolute _bother_. “Going on as a couple will only make you more stubborn.”

“A couple,” He muses. “I suppose it will. I can’t imagine what would make you more stubborn.”

“What did I tell you? Things won’t change so much, because we’ve always been like this.”

Baze strokes the fine hairs at the nape of Chirrut’s neck until he shivers. “Still cold?” He asks, fully aware that Chirrut is heated through with his touch. “You better stay close to me. I’ll keep you warm.”

Chirrut doesn’t argue, instead settling his head so he can listen to Baze’s heartbeat as they drift off together.


End file.
